This Book Belongs To: Melody

By Nia Carter

Melody Adler was a lot of things. 

 

A mother, a daughter, a talented linguist, a bisexual, a widow, a mediocre accountant.
She was a woman of many words, and even more talents. 
 

But none of that particularly matters.

Mostly because she's dead.

 

When Melody wakes up in the middle of a field with nothing but the clothes on her back, her brand new diary, and a whole lot of questions with no one to ask them to, it doesn't take her long to realize she's not where she's supposed to be.

Until by strange miracle, or more accurately, the meddling of an old god, she meets Her.

Now, she's not so sure what she is.

And there's not much time left to find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nia Carter
• Release date: Aug 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201824808

Book preview

If found, please deliver to 46-32 Cecil Street Chicago, Illinois, 60185

My dearest Valerie,

Let me begin by saying this: you are the love of my life, my heart, my soul.

The day you were born was the best day I've ever had.

You, my love, matter to me more than anything else in this world and I know grandmama would never let you begin to think such a thing, but regardless, I need to tell you, I would never willingly leave you.

Baby, sometimes bad things happen to good people.

Sometimes, there’s no real rhyme or reason and all you can do is take what God has given you.

I wish there was a reason for this.

I wish someone would descend from the heavens and tell me exactly what I did to deserve being stuck here.

I was raised well, that's for damn sure.

Sorry, baby, excuse my language.

I've never done any drugs, I listened to Mama, I read my Bible, I went to church and I did everything I could to raise you right.

Why am I here?

Was I kidnapped?

I don’t remember it.

I don’t remember anything after walking you inside. 

The weather’s not horrible.

It's always overcast, and it seldom gets hotter than about 70 degrees.

Until the sun sets.

If the sun sets.

When the sun sets, this little world gets so much brighter.

It brightens until the dense leaves on the packed-together trees look like tiny black specks, until the dew on the grass glistens like stars that shouldn’t be as close to you as they seem to be, until the only way to prevent yourself from being blinded is to tuck your head in your knees and cover your eyes so tightly you see spots for hours, as you somehow still manage to feel and see the bright red heat through your eyelids.

I've no clue where the light comes from.

I haven't seen the sun, the moon, or so much as a cloud at all.

Not once.

It's all so empty.

The sky, the woods, the trees—empty.

The only live things here are the grass—

about a football field's length around me—

and the ring of trees surrounding it.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to smell anything other than pine again.

What really makes it hard to sleep at night is the silence.

Back home, at night, you hear car alarms and sirens, and loud jazz for each and every hour of darkness.

You never realize what sounds lull you to sleep until they’re gone.

Even then, I went to the countryside once. I know that it isn’t meant to be so silent.

I couldn’t sleep a wink down there with all the crickets, foxes, and raccoons and what have you.

They spent the whole night chirping, hollering, rustling through every bush they could find.

The country isn’t quiet.

Not like this.

See, that's why I know this place isn't human.

Isn't mortal.

This huge forest full of places to hide, and hunt—

with admittedly strange weather—

but no wildlife whatsoever?

I should be fighting off wolves for a blade of grass to sleep on.

And yet, there's nothing.

No one.

It's just quiet, deafening quiet.

There's no animal on Earth that can hide well enough to not be noticed for this long.

I hit my head the other day.

Three days ago, maybe?

I'm not certain.

I didn't think to bring my calendar. 

I had climbed to the top of a tree, I was trying to see if there was anything in the distance.

The trees are tall, frighteningly tall, why, they must be ten stories high.

They don’t touch.

It’s like they’re a barrier—surrounding me, caging me in.

Out in the forest it’s different, much, much different.

Their branches are all tangled together, like one big knot.

There’s barely an inch of light that squeezes past the wiry little needles.

A cage in every sense of the word.

I climbed as far up as I could go before the branches were too thin to hold my weight and still, all I saw was forest for miles.

And miles.

And miles.

And miles.

I think that was the moment I knew I couldn't leave.

All I could think about was you, baby.

You’re gonna be ten years old soon, you’re gonna be a big girl, Val.

Grandma will take care of you, I know that.

It doesn't stop me from worrying.

I doubt anything would. 

It didn’t stop me from picturing you, sitting there and staring at your birthday cake.

Thinking.

Wondering where Mommy is.

I passed out.

I woke up as I was falling through the trees.

I saw the ground beneath me, getting closer and closer.

I tried to reach out and grab a branch but I couldn't quite grasp any of them.

I could only feel my body hit the rough branches as the pine needles that had looked so close to normal pierced my skin.

I couldn't stop.

I knew I would die.

I thought of our last Christmas.

The look on your face when you opened your present to see that doll you’d begged me to get you for weeks.

The way your eyes lit up—as that little gap toothed smile grew on your face—it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

The way your little arms wrapped around me as you screamed in my ear about how happy you were that Santa got your letter.

I knew you’d stopped believing in him a while ago, the fact that you’d pretended for my sake nearly made me cry.

I wanted you to be the last thing I thought about.

Then I woke up.

In the middle of the field.

Staring out into that circle of pine trees.

It was nighttime, and I didn't have a scratch on me. I thought, for a moment, that it was a hallucination.

After all, I hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a while.

That’s when I realized I hadn’t eaten since I got here.

I hadn't been hungry, or thirsty, or tired.

I hadn’t felt a thing, I hadn’t lost any weight, and despite my fall, I’m completely and utterly unharmed.

Valerie, little valerian, I love you.

And I love you too, Mama, I’ll miss you both more than you can ever imagine.

But I’m not alive anymore.

And there’s nothing I can do to get back to you.

Entry One

I'm going to go for a walk.

I can't sit here twiddling my thumbs for all eternity.

I'm not sure I could stand it.

Although it's not like exercising would do me any good.

Not much affects me nowadays.

Not physically.

I miss it, the groundedness of a body.

I can still see myself. I can see my hands, my dark skin, my thick, tightly coiled hair is still stretched down my back from the braids I had before I arrived here, despite the fact that I have done nothing to it since I've arrivedーwhich, I suppose I'm grateful for. I'm not sure I'd find many hair products while frolicking through the forest.

Nothing is solid.

Thinking back, when I first arrived here, I panickedーas any sane person would.

All I could think about was how difficult it was to take a deep breath.

It hasn't changed. I can't feel the air in my lungs anymore.

When I touch something, I go through it.

Everything intertwines, it’s almost like locking hands with someone.

No, it's more like running your hands through water.

It's near impossible to describe, all I can truthfully say is how unsettling it is to never feel the ground underneath you.

I should leave soon.

Last night lasted a very long while.

I may have time to wait for light, but I do not have the patience.

I will not lie here and wait for nothing.

Idle hands and all that.

Entry Two

I wasn't trying to get lost, obviously.

I don't enjoy not knowing where I am.

Then again, that's more of a constant these days.

I didn't want to return.

I couldn't. Not yet.

It's too much.

Waking up every day to the same empty sky and knowing for a fact that there's no one.

No one and nothing other than you and your memories that seem like they took place so long ago.

I just wanted to breathe.

Besides, it's not like I wouldn't wake up right back where I started.

It's happened the last twenty times.

I just wanted to see something different.

Unfortunately, there was only the forest.

I couldn't tell you how long I walked, only that if I was alive I would've passed out miles before I'd stopped.

I was pleased to see that the trees seemed to get bigger the deeper you went, the slight difference eased the ache.

I was, however, unsettled to see the path followed you, no matter where you stepped.

If I took my eyes off it, even for a second, even just to blink, it would be miles ahead of wherever I had planned to walk.

Little things like that remind me of where I am now. Of what I am now.

It truly takes what little charm this place could ever have and rips it to shreds.

It got dark.

I thought I'd stay longer, no point in being afraid of the dark when nothing is there to kill you.

Not that anything could kill me anymore.

I walked until I couldn't tell if it was still night or day, as the trees were so dense, so packed together, their branches deeply intertwined, almost tangled.

I couldn't see my own hand in front of my face.

They arched over me.

To keep me trapped. Or to shield me.

I don't think I’m meant to know which.

I stopped when I got bored.

I lied down right where I stood and slept on the ground.

I was reminded of my own bed.

I got the frame on sale for five dollars, a great deal, but at the time it was a big purchase.

The mattress I got from my mother's oldest church friend, Henrietta.

Her son went away to college and his mattress had been used for so long she didn't think it would sell well.

Plus, she'd do anything to help out poor little Loretta and her newly-widowed daughter.

That's one thing I don't miss.

We were a tight knit community, which meant everyone knew everyone's business, and they damn sure had something to say about it.

Every single time we went to church or school, someone had to bring it up.

We were never starving.

Even when I was young and countless people were out on the streets looking for any work they could find just to put some food on the table, we were fairly well off.

Daddy died when I was quite young and that left my mother as the sole provider for our little family, and she worked her behind off cleaning houses, teaching in schools, doing any odd job she could find.

It wasn't until I was about ten years old that we were truly secure, however, that was the year she got her nursing degree.

I can't imagine how many nights she spent shaking with stress and exhaustion from a full day’s work, only to take off her work clothes and come read me a bedtime story in some foreign language she'd never heard, my overexcited voice correcting any pronunciation mistakes she made.

She did everything she could to make sure we had everything we needed.

Then Valerie was born, and Earl was gone, and I suppose we all relaxed a bit.

I was pregnant and I'd just gotten my masters, Mama was taking some time off to stay home with me.

I'd grieved over my father in my own way over the years.

But not in the same way as I grieved over Earl.

I loved him, even though I'd never met him, but I only had the idea of my father to grieve.

I had secondhand memories and letters and two lovely photographs that I wish I could look at now, if only for a moment.

But I'd never seen him, felt him, spoken to him, and while I imagine I'd be just as despaired if I had known him better than the back of my hand, all I had to miss was a shadow.

Earl was real.

Earl had held my hand as I opened my acceptance letter, Earl had whispered sweet nothings in my ear countless nights while we stared up at the stars, the streetlights far too bright for us to be out, without a chaperone no less.

Earl had read every pregnancy book with me, he'd held my hand as we waited to enter the doctor's office with teary eyes and hopeful hearts, he'd been my valentine every year since middle school, he'd cheered almost as loud as Mama had when I walked across the stage in my cap and gown; he was real, and he was mine.

And then he was gone. Forever.

And I had a baby to raise.

We managed, by the skin of our teeth, we managed.

That was when I started work at the accounting firm and Mama and I took care to make sure whenever I worked she was home and vice versa, and all the little church ladies would sigh, and pout, and hug me tightly like an itchy sweater from a distant relative in your least favorite color and say, We’ll pray for you and the baby, Melody.

Pity and prayers don't pay bills.

And in most cases, I wouldn't call what they felt for us pity.

Anyway, the bed was horrid.

Sleeping on the ground felt only slightly worse. And it smelled a lot better.

Perhaps my train of thought made me restless but I could not sleep.

Something felt wrong.

Not bad necessarily, just off.

Like I was being watched.

And I knew it was silly of me, I hadn't seen so much as a tick in this entire forest.

Still, I felt eyes on me.

After a while I couldn't take it anymore.

I spoke.

Nothing much, I only asked if anyone was there.

I knew in my head it was ridiculous, I knew I was truly alone.

But maybe I needed to be around another human, another animal even.

I couldn’t help but think that maybe, somewhere out in this forest, there was some little creature sitting all alone in the dark, watching me sleep.

Maybe it just needed to be around someone too.

Most likely not, but common sense isn't a strong suit of mine anymore.

I haven't had much need to practice.

Of course nothing responded, but I wasn’t ready to give up on my fantasy yet.

I stood and called out again.

Silence.

The air fell still as I waited for something, anything.

I didn’t breathe for fear that I’d miss it.

And still, complete silence.

I sighed to myself and lied back down, finally acknowledging that there was indeed no one there.

That I was alone.

That all I could do was sit down, shut up, and go to sleep and wait for it to end.

The same unchanging place would be waiting for me in the morning, and it was pointless to think differently.

I fell into a depressing silence.

I closed my eyes and let myself drift into unconsciousness.

Hoping that maybe this time, I at least wouldn’t wake up to face the same blank sky again.

Snap.

It was so faint I almost missed it.

But I heard it, I know I did. 

A twig snapped.

It was so close, I could've reached it in five paces.

I had never yearned for a flashlight so desperately, I would've killed for a bit of  moonlight in that moment.

I guessed where the sound had come from, and darted after it.

I was never even sure if it was really there, I almost gave up, until I heard it.

The footsteps.

Quick, quiet little footsteps.

I was elated, something, some person, some animal, some creature was there.

I could've cried, I would've cried!

Until I tripped.

I hadn't paid attention to where I was running, and I tripped.

Over my own feet.

I hit my head.

I know that because I woke up in the very same field I do every day.

It was devastating being so close only to suddenly wake up and be faced with the fact that I will most likely never see whatever was there again.

I could not have been dreaming. Or hallucinating.

I don't know what I’ll do if I imagined it all, I don't think I could take it. 

My solace though! My delight! My proof!

I have a scar on my knee.

It's small, nearly imperceptible, but it's there, it's a scar!

For a moment, long enough for me to injure myself, I went somewhere.

Somewhere I could get hurt.

Somewhere other than here.

I need to go again.

I'm going on another walk. Right now.

I’ll run into whatever was watching me eventually, I just have to keep walking.

I’ll find it, and it’ll find me, and then neither of us will be alone.

Entry Three

I knew I saw it!

I wasn’t crazy; it was there, right there in front of me!

It was bright and it was so small, and it hurt to stare at it for too long.

I think it was a fox?

I'm not certain.

All I know is it was bright, and orange, and fast, much faster than I am by far.

I don't know what came over me.

I just felt, in the very depths of my soul, that I needed to follow it, that I needed to chase.

Perhaps It was loneliness.

The need to be around another thinking, feeling, breathing being.

It probably couldn't talk, but it could be there.

Or maybe it was the adrenaline.

The rush of doing something because there's no other option.

Then again, I don't have adrenaline any longer, now do I?

I ran with it through that forest for what felt like miles.

I yelled after it, pleaded with it to stop, to speak to me.

Which was, of course, not the smartest way to go about things.

It was an animal.

In its mind, I was a deranged predator yowling and nipping at its heels.

Every move I made only served to make it run faster, but I wasn't thinking about any of that, I couldn't.

I needed to let it know I was there.

That it wasn't alone.

I couldn't just leave it.

After what could've been a minute, an hour, or a day, I got closer.

It was tired by then, I think.

It slowed down only a bit, but it was more than enough time for me to gain on it.

I was sprinting, galloping toward it as it slowed down to a jog.

I was so close.

Feet away.

Inches away.

I managed to touch the tip of its tail.

I heard my hand sizzle before I felt the heat.

It burned me.

It burned me.

My hand was charred.

There was no more color in the palm of my hand save for black and a blistered, glowing red.

And then it was gone.

It had disappeared out of thin air.

I only felt the pain after I'd realized it left.

I'm writing this with my right hand, sadly, as my left is severely burned.

I think I'm a bit stunned.

I haven't felt pain in so long.

I forgot how unpleasant it could be.

It almost makes me nostalgic.

The jarring heat that comes from taking a dish out of the oven without any gloves on by mistake, of brushing your hand against a fireplace, it doesn't feel nice, of course, but it does feel like something. And something is much more satisfying to feel than nothing.

This may leave more than a small scar. 

Never mind that, what was it? 

What kind of creature burns you when you touch it?

Was it a demon? That would mean I'm in hell.

It wouldn't be surprising I suppose, but then what of the fire and brimstone?

Where could it be?

Why, demons are meant to torment others, surely tormenting would involve being near the tormentee.

Or, is this my punishment?

An eternity alone after being within reach of something I'll never have another chance of getting.

But punishment for what? What could I have possibly done?

I walked back to the field.

I saw no purpose in continuing, and my hand hurt. Terribly.

I saw something. Someone.

Someone who's probably sentient, who I can talk to. Or at.

Either way.

A step closer to a dead end.

When I got back, the grass was completely regrown, as if nothing had lied on it or ran through it.

As if nothing had stepped foot on it in its entire life.

And in an hour or a day or a week, I'll wake up, there will be no stars in the sky, I'll be completely healed and the only hope I'll have is that I may be able to see that creature again.

I'm going to hold on to that hope.

Entry Four

My hand is still scarred.

It still aches. 

It’s been a night, everything’s the same, except my hand still aches!

I can't believe it.

It was real.

All of it.

I know what I saw, no, felt!

And it lives somewhere in that forest.

How far is it from me now?

Miles? Yards? Feet?

I can find out.

I could just walk out into those dense trees and see it.

It'd be a long walk but what does that matter? I'm dead.

I miss it so much.

Being burnt is the only social interaction I've had in months.

I'm so hungry for it.

I would burn my whole body ten times over to be able to speak one word out loud and be heard, to hear someone say hello.

I miss that more than anything, conversation.

I miss hugging my daughter and my mom, miss having picnics on every Easter, Valentine's Day and birthday. I miss talking to the old women at church. I miss having terribly dull small talk about clients with my coworkers.

All right, maybe I don't.

If I’d known how soon this would happen, I’d have made sure to save those minutes for more important, entertaining, or just slightly more pleasant moments.

But I would kill even for a brief conversation about the weather, not that there'd be much to talk about.

It's overcast again.

That it is.

I'm going back. I need to find it. Even if I can only stare as it runs away.

Entry Five

It's a fox.

Almost.

It didn't take long to find, surprisingly.

It was just sitting